Creation is a funny thing, but what I am finding is important is that being ‘picked up’ for what you do, in whatever medium, is actually just a small part of it. (And let’s not get into how the commercial side gets messed up with people who make things that appeal, rather than creating true stuff.)

The most satisfying thing I can do as an artist (in writing, drawing, music, eidetic images before I fall asleep, day dreaming, conversations, etc.) is to just create; creation is not just its own reward; it has a life of its own, very non-objective, as magical as you are willing to risk for.When I was younger, I compared that feeling to riding an untamable horse; now that I’m 60, I find that the feeling of creation is more like a day job where you get on a bus to what might be hell, or an assembly line, rock-breaking, sexy, or some place never seen/lived before.

Wherever you go, if you are an artist, you live there like a native, and you get what you get, and the glory is more in the seeing than in the transposing. Art is really about the ability to be stupid and naked and brilliant in public, with the confidence of a brat and the vulnerability of utter loss–those places you reach for desperately, but cannot grasp. Yet.

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